Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Author: Kathleen FullerSeries: A Middlefield Family NovelPaperback: 320 pagesPublisher: Thomas Nelson (May 7, 2013)Note: I received a review copy of this book free from Booksneeze.com. The review posted below is based on my personal thoughts while reading the book.Ratings: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ My thoughts:Letters to Katie is the third book to the Middlefield Family Series. This book centers to two Amish young couples, Katie and Johhny + Sawyer and Laura.Initially, it was a little dragging. Didn't like Cora's (Sawyer's grandmother) ways of showing love to Sawyer and I admit there's sometimes a feeling of unease to Sawyer's constant mention of his faith to the Lord. As for Johnny and Katie's story, liked it better than Sawyer and Laura's. The conflict seems better/real to me. I liked their story, painful to very sweet ending. If you are into clean romance books, go out and grab yourself a copy of this book. About the book:Everything changed between them the first time he called her Katie.Katherine Yoder has loved Johnny Mullet since the two were children, but he’s never returned her affections.Now Johnny is trying to forge a new life for himself by purchasing a farm and building a business of his own. But times are tough, and he soon learns that he can’t take anything for granted—especially Katherine.Before Johnny has the opportunity to tell Katherine his true feelings, she’s struck by a serious illness. While Katherine struggles to recall recent memories of Johnny, a surprise visitor comes back into her life, claiming that his letters speak of a history and a future for the two of them.With the two men vying for her attention and her memory still elusive, Katherine has never felt so torn. But will the solutions to both Johnny’s and Katherine’s problems lie in places neither one has ever considered?

About the author:

I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas, and currently live in Geneva, Ohio. I've been married to James for 20 wonderful years (really, they have been wonderful!) We have three terrific children, two dogs, and have raised cattle, pigs, and chickens at various times over the years. We would have gone into the goat business, but I had to draw the line somewhere. I started writing in 2000, and published my first short story a year later. Since then I have authored several short stories, novellas, novels, and have done a lot of freelance non-fiction work. I have also worked as an editor. I have a Masters degree in Special Education, emphasis on teaching the blind and visually impaired, and a Bachelors in Early Childhood/Elementary Education. I have taught all age groups ranging from age 4 to age 18. A few of my favorite things: my relationship with Christ, chocolate (of course!), autumn, a satisfying book, good friends, a sense of humor, people who don't take themselves seriously, haunting melodies, NFL football, and did I mention chocolate?

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

The anthology in your hands is the result of my attempt, as editor, to salvage the legacy, tradition and pride of English poetry of India. We have profound national, emotional, natural, spiritual and physical affiliations with the title of the anthology, The Dance of the Peacock. One of the interesting facts about this anthology is that the poets featured herein are from all walks and talks of life. This book showcases a homogenous amalgamation of legendary figures, the established and promising poets. Even though the majority of them now stand on the verge of their literary career they remain ignored despite the large number of qualitative volumes of poetry to their credit. I can only hope that this collection will help to shine light on their work. Besides poets from the milieu of English language and literature, we have the poems of doctors, engineers, diplomats, bureaucrats, politicians, film makers, management professionals, scientists, bank employees, accountants, journalists and many more who carve out some time in their tight schedule crowded with their occupations for livelihood. With their poems they breathe a sigh of relief from the onslaught of day to day drudgery. There has been a tremendous response to the call for submission of this anthology. After cudgeling the brain for six months a list of 151 poets has now come to the surface. As usual the work of some good poets could not be accommodated due to theme and size restrictions of the book. This in itself is a testimonial to the fact that the final selection of poems featured here is accomplished solely on merit and aptitude of the poets. The final decision on the title, subtitle and issues of putting the poets in order has been decided after sharing opinions with all the 151 contributing poets. This collection represents some of the most leading poets of Indian origin right from 15 years old to 92. In the end the decision was to position the poems in alphabetical order by author’s first name, without dividing them under any headings. The support from contributors on these matters was valuable to me. It can’t be claimed that this anthology is all inclusive and showcases all the leading Indian poets writing in English. If one would compare this with those that have been compiled and edited in the past, one would certainly find some of the poets in the limelight are missing their representations in this anthology. This reveals two palpable facts pertaining to Indian English Poetry. On the one hand it authenticates an expanding trajectory of contemporary Indian English Poetry; on the other it tells a tale of previous anthologies embodying the saying, the same wine inside the bottles of different labels.

In the light of these specifics, this anthology is a book that serves as a podium to share, explore and discover hidden talents in the cerebrum of the contemporary Indian English poets and their poetry. Thus this compilation of poems will give a rich variety and freshness to poetry lovers. I don’t know how others will receive this anthology, which is now left to the ravages of time, but to me it is a dream come true though, I admit, am a mere instrument of representing to a galaxy of coveted and legendary poets in the worldwide panorama of Indian English poetry. To be brief, I would like to convey my sincere appreciation and obligation to all the contributors for sending their worthwhile poems for this epoch anthology. I convey my regards and gratitude to Dr Debjani Chatterjee for writing pithy but all pervasive foreword for this anthology. I convey my heartfelt thanks to fellow poets and authors who indefatigably helped in disseminating the call for submissions regarding this anthology. I am, no less, indebted and obliged to the publisher of Hidden Brook Press, Richard M. Grove, whose warranted suggestions and ongoing help made this anthology possible and promising. Finally, let us hope that this anthology would be a new mile stone in the chronicle of Indian English poetry and cater to the expectations of readers and contributors alike.The Dance of the Peacock: An Anthology of English Poetry from India

The incredible new investigation into what really happened on that fateful August night in Paris

When Diana, Princess of Wales, was killed in a car crash in a Paris tunnel in 1997, the world had never seen such an outpouring of disbelief and emotion. Ever since that night, many have believed that there were sinister forces at work behind the tragedy. Now, after years of extensive investigation, this book confronts the question of whether Diana was murdered. The author examines such questions as What was Diana's real relationship with the Royal Family, and why would someone want to murder her? Did the police fail to pursue suspicious evidence, and was their investigation flawed? He reviews the information given at the inquest in order to present evidence that he believes would prove to any honest court, "beyond reasonable doubt," that Diana was the victim of a conspiracy. His revelations are astounding.

Get ready to ride . . .

Tyra Masters has had enough drama to last a lifetime. Now, she's back on track and looking forward to her new, quiet life. Until she meets the man of her dreams. The tattooed, muscled biker plies her with tequila-and the best sex of her life. She knows it isn't the tequila and hot sex talking. He's the kind of man she's always wanted. Unfortunately, he's also her new boss..

Kane "Tack" Allen has a rule. He doesn't employ someone he's slept with. So when he learns he spent last night in bed with his new office manager, he quickly fires Tyra. Yet when Tyra stands up to him and fights for her job, Tack is intrigued. He tells her she can keep her job on one condition: no more sex. Ever. But as things heat up between them, Tack finds that he'll be the one breaking all the rules...

Join Alan Power, author of the true crime/royalty book, The Princess Diana Conspiracy, as he tours the blogosphere August 29 - September 27, 2013 on his first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

ABOUT THE PRINCESS DIANA CONSPIRACY

The Princess Diana Conspiracy is primarily a detailed investigation into the brutal murder of Diana, Princess of Wales but British democracy is also questioned. Evidence is presented that MI6 perverted the course of justice and that they murder people but also that Diana was a target “within their code”. The police are proven to have conspired, “to get their stories straight” at the inquest and there is also further disturbing evidence of other peoples’ murders that were associated with this brutal crime. We begin with a review of the details surrounding Diana’s murder and illustrate many coincidental happenings both during Diana’s life and thereafter (the plane that Richard Tomlinson, SAS/MI6 whistle-blower, was due to return to Geneva on, Swissair Flight 111 from New York where he was booked to give evidence on US television, blew up mid-air killing 227 people; the CIA had returned him on an earlier flight. Princess Caroline of Brunswick, whom George IV was ordered to marry, was taken ill on the eve of George’s coronation and died three weeks later; she claimed she had been poisoned. Her body was sent quickly back to Germany; there is clear precedence of such family behaviour). We are shown what Diana was required to tolerate and see her royal world. We then migrate onto describing how this attack took place and show, again, the amazing coincidences that made the timing of this act serendipitous to the royals e.g. Diana was murdered the very day after her decree absolute came through when she would have been free to marry Dodi Fayed. We delve deeply into the workings and testimony of the major players but especially the authorities (police and MI6) then show an enormous amount of corruption, sidestepping, (I am required to say untruths, not lies) and ridiculous testimony that no sane person could possibly accept; the court did not see fit to criticise either MI6 or the police when these revelations occurred. Please also take note of the various points I have disclosed, not previously discovered, of major comments during evidence that prove these “untruths” and the wholesale corruption. The police did not investigate the abuse of Diana prior to Paris and evidence is produced that MI6 were watching and following her around for years before the murder took place; the police did nothing and the policeman responsible for this did nothing to protect Diana either although it was supposedly his job; he couldn’t explain why. James Andanson, who was the owner of a white Fiat Uno, was found murdered with two bullet holes in his head. He had been bragging that he was in the tunnel when Diana was murdered. His good friend and well known French crime writer Frederic Dard “died” five weeks after Andanson. It is proven that he and Andanson had been engaged in writing a book together about Diana’s murder. It goes on and on. Add to this evidence that the decision to embalm Diana was taken at a “Diplomatic level” and that the paparazzi, who were incarcerated and blamed for the whole event, were prevented from attending court through “Political intervention” and the soul heads further and further into the abyss. If the paparazzi had persuaded the jury that they were first to the tunnel (Which I show they were) then this alone was proof of murder. There really is too much to tell you all during such a brief overview but the comment from one literary agent who read the book before my current agent took over was that he often felt he needed to stop frequently and come up for air. I thought that is what I was supposed to achieve; reveal the truth and let you, the people decide whether you will permit this evil act to go unpunished.

ABOUT ALAN POWER

The author is married to Sally and has enjoyed a variety of interests including being a drama student, an official candidate of the Conservative party and owning his own company but this is his first journey into the world of writing. His hobbies are flying, pistol shooting, scuba diving and he is a past rugby football player. He has written another book about Diana that will be published later and has ideas for other subjects that will also follow. When his company suffered the ravages of internal fraud with no joy from the police due to lack of evidence and a degree of police indifference, his life changed irrevocably but now he had the time to write. When Diana was murdered Alan remembers feeling rage that such a beautiful and natural person as Diana could be used, abused and so cruelly discarded just to serve the monarchy’s needs. He considered the probability that this was a murder of convenience and monarchical survival so he began an extensive investigation into Diana’s death. Although initially unsure he would be up to this task, he persevered and now offers evidence that this murder was not conducted by rogue MI6 officers, considered as possible during the inquests, but by serving MI6 officers and with the use of military aid. This project began in 2003 and despite many attempts by others to prevent, or delay, the book’s release Alan now brings you his findings. There is first an overview of the background to this brutal act and a selection of relevant events prior to the inquests with lateral thought being applied to four million words of cross referenced inquest evidence. He delivers the most compelling and damming evidence and says that it’s important for justice to prevail if Britain still wishes to be considered a democracy.

My thoughts:Mystery Man is the first book to the Dream Man series, second from KA. Law Man book #3 review, click HERE.Gwendolyn Kidd has been 'dating' a mystery man. Dating a mystery man means: no names, in Gwen's bedroom, lights out, unlimited sex for one year and six months. It freaked me out the first few pages, I just can't imagine anyone would agree to that kind of set-up. One-night-stand, that I understand but doing it with someone you don't know for nearly two years??? Gwen - are you high? That was my initial reaction to Gwen's story so I left her crazy world for a while, went back I guess two or three days after.So, this Mystery Man is Hawk, real name Cabe Delgado. Hawk's an ex-army, bad ass domineering alpha man who gives great sex. Not considering the insane set-up, Hawk can be swoon-worthy too. I love that he calls Gwen babe (my favorite endearment next to sweetheart), he can cook, buys his woman expensive things, etc. Though it bothered me that he was spying on Gwen, like monitoring (through his boys) her activities 24/7, WITH CCTVs inside and outside of the house! That's creepy for a guy! Yay... As for the story/conflict, it kept me interested the whole time and I guess it was better than Law Man, though in my hotness meter, Mitch still tops the list of my to-day-dream (human) men. And, of course the epilogue and the HEA. . . . I just love love LOVE Kristen Ashley's books! Wanna start Wild Man and Motorcycle Man soon!About the book:While drinking cosmopolitans, Gwendolyn Kidd meets the man of her dreams. Then she takes him home. Then she wakes up alone. But her fear that she lost her dream man turns into a relationship with a mystery man when, night after night in the dead of night, he comes back for more. Hoping it will blossom into something real, she lets him.But she doesn’t even know his name.Gwen’s struggling with the decision to end their crazy non-relationship when her sister-from-hell, Ginger’s best friend pays a visit and warns Gwen that if she and her sister don't get smart, they'll both get d-e-a-d, dead. Gwen has no clue what’s going on but she’s used to Ginger’s antics and decides to lay the problem on her sister’s biker boyfriend's doorstep. Bad choice. She hits the Denver Underground radar with a big, loud ping.This means Gwen’s Mystery Man, Cabe “Hawk” Delgado has to step in to keep her safe. But when Hawk gets a dose of Gwen in the daylight, he makes the decision that he finally wants real with Gwen. However when Gwen gets a dose of badass, bossy, straight-talker Hawk in the daylight, she decides she’s done.Thus begins the head-to-head of the Commando vs. Cosmo Girl as Hawk woos Gwen in his own unique way, Gwen survives firebombs, drive-bys, kidnappings, hot pursuits by biker hotties and gorgeous police detectives and discovers the heartbreaking reason why Hawk kept her at arm’s length.And as all this happens, Gwen finds that her sister’s troubles are serious trouble and she must decide who to keep alive: her sister-from-hell or the man of her dreams.About the author:

Kristen Ashley was born in Gary, Indiana, USA and nearly killed her mother and herself making it into the world, seeing as she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck (already attempting to accessorise and she hadn't taken her first breath!). Her mother said they took Kristen away, put her Mom back in her room, her mother looked out the window, and Gary was on fire (Dr. King had been assassinated four days before). Kristen's Mom remembered thinking it was the end of the world. Quite the dramatic beginning. Nothing's changed.Kristen grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana and has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus, she's blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her family was (is) loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write. They all lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up. And as she keeps growing, it keeps getting better.

Not supposed to do anything until I'm done with my paper works but I just can't continue working after knowing Eric burst into flames while getting his tan in Sweden! I know stupid of him to forget day walking can wear off since it happened with Russel Edgington but really?? Is he truly dead? He's the only reason why I'm watching the show! Have you watched the season finale? What do you think? Can they really take Eric out from the show? I'm worried they might do so since Charlaine Harris didn't consider Sookie-Eric/Sookie-Bill fans in her decision for Sookie's HEA. I was so heartbroken with the book series so I'm hoping the tv series will be better than the books.

Btw, how about Alcide and Sookie hooking up? Well, used to hate him in the earlier episodes but oh boy, looking at his hair and body. . .. . . yummy-licious! For a while there, I forgot Eric died LOL.

They never thought their luck would be their curse. In the months following the onslaught, the extraordinary survivors continue to know no peace, as they are haunted by signs that the relentless creature remains on their trail. However, this fight will be better matched, now that they’ve discovered an advantage that will help protect them from the monster’s bloodthirsty lust. But once faced with the decision to kill the beast, the choice will not come lightly since it is still unclear which loved one the chupacabra possesses.

Night time is the right time...

Gwendolyn Kidd has met the man of her dreams. He's hot, he's sexy, and what started as a no-names-exchanged night of passion has blossomed into a year and a half-long pleasure fest. Sure, it's a little strange that he only appears in her bed at night, but Gwen is so sure he's the one, she just can't turn him away...

Hawk Delgado knows more about Gwen than she could ever imagine. She's gorgeous, headstrong, and skittish about relationships. But Hawk is facing his own demons, demons that keep him from connecting with anyone. Yet when Gwen is drawn into Denver's lethal underground scene, Hawk's protective nature comes out full force. The problem is, when Gwen gets a dose of Hawk's Alpha attitude in the daylight, she's not so sure he's the one anymore....

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Clementine’s Shadow by Peggy Rothschild Publisher: Moonstone Publishing Publication date: April 13, 2013ISBN: 9780615799148 (paperback)Number of pages: 346Amazon link ASIN: B00C9IED50 (Kindle edition)File Size: 450 KBPrint length: 352 pagesSold by Amazon Digital ServicesAmazon linkAbout the book:After moving to the California High Desert for a new start, Deputy Casey Lang faces a hard truth: She must work through her fear of shooting another child or kiss her career goodbye. The disappearance of a six-year-old girl from a summer concert in the park puts Casey's resolve to the test. The only member of the local force with experience working a kidnapping, Casey knows she's the department's best chance for finding the child.Set in a scorched landscape of played out silver mines and dry riverbeds, Clementine's Shadow tells the story of a child snatched by a predator and the desperate hunt to find her. About the author:

Peggy Rothschild grew up in Los Angeles. Always a mystery-lover, she embraced the tales of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys before graduating to the adult section of the library. An English major in high school, she switched to her other passion – art – in college. At present, Peggy lives in the beach community of Ventura with her husband and their cats, and is busy working on her next mystery. In her spare time she focuses on transforming their yard into a drought-tolerant paradise.

CHAPTER 1

10:30 A.M.

The old biddy nearing him in the supermarket aisle looked sharp-eyed and cranky. He didn’t recognize her, but still averted his face. After she passed, he studied the candy selection. Dolly craved bright-looking treats with wild colors. A lollipop of swirled blue and pink drew his gaze, the candy disk as big as his palm. Dolly would want it. The concert in the park started at seven o’clock. He would try to hold off until 7:15 before he gave Dolly her treat. Hard to resist those big green eyes. A shopping cart rattled. He looked toward the sound. A young mother approached. Her daughter clutched at the woman’s leg, the girl’s fingers scrabbling without success along the skin-tight denim. The mother brushed away the girl’s hand, her attention focused on the package-lined shelves. Another brainwashed drone who thought she could buy the ingredients for happiness. He knew better. Happiness didn’t nest in material things. The woman moved away, pushing her basket toward the frozen food section. Her daughter trailed behind. He lingered by the candy display, peering at them through mirrored sunglasses, unobtrusive in his studies. Little girls, age five or six, moved like young deer, awkward and graceful by turns. This one’s sticklike legs made him think of a fawn first learning to run. Lovely. Vulnerable. The vibrations began to rise inside him. “No!” The little girl spun away from her mother. “You promised candy.” She ran straight at him. No sudden moves. Remain calm. The girl neared. He strolled from the candy aisle toward the baked goods section.“Brittany. Get back here. I don’t have time for this.” The woman abandoned her half-full cart, marched after the girl and grabbed her shoulders. “Want candy? Then behave. Don’t make me chase you all over the damn store.”The girl stared at the array of sweets. Her lower lip and voice trembled. “You promised.”“Jesus Christ. We’ll pick something out when we’re done shopping. Now, come on.” The woman tugged her daughter’s hand.The girl’s lower lip retreated. “OK.” She sniffed then trotted along beside her mother. The two returned to their shopping cart.He stared after them. The young mother so confident she and her daughter had nothing to worry about except wasted time. Foolish – like most mothers. He took a deep breath, trying to quiet the hum inside his brain. He needed to stay focused for tonight. Nothing could go wrong. Stick to the plan. Make it happen. Tonight he would offer Dolly her treat. When Dolly saw it, she’d smile and come to him. Dollies always did.

Shipping >>>>> Worldwide free shipping! Well, actually free only for standard shipping which usually takes 5-15 business days. Items ordered on June 27th (China), received on July 9th (Philippines).

items placed inside a bubble wrap

Review >>>>> Earrings are nice and lovely as seen from the website. I'm not sure though about the quality as they are new (update: color still okay - Feb 2014). Ordered necklace and earrings before, gave them as a birthday gift to a friend and haven't asked about the quality. I'll update if or when the color fades. Only thing I can say not OK with these two earrings is that they are heavy in my ears. Holes get stretchy so don't wanna wear it often.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Synopsis:The Prodigal is a work of literary fiction about Aidan Sharpe, a troubled lawyer trying to rebuild his life on Ocracoke Island, who finds love and destiny when an abandoned schooner thought to have been lost at sea more than a century ago drifts ashore. While struggling to come to terms with his own failures and his growing affection for Molly, an enterprising towboat captain, Aidan is drawn into a 2,000-year-old mystery that unfolds with the reappearance of the ship.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Just sharin' Vampire Academy's first chapter in DIMITRI BELIKOV'S POIN T OF VIEW! Read this last week and still not over my Dimka. Although Richelle Mead has been very clear on NOT writing anything in Dimitri's POV after this, I am still hoping she will, I can wait forever, you know. I can and I will! That is how I love VA so muchhhy. Enjoy!THE MEETING “Dimitri!”I turned instantly at the sound of my name, shooting a glare at the guardian approaching in the darkness. What was he thinking? Everyone out here tonight knew how essential secrecy was. It didn’t matter that he was young and simply excited about his first big mission. We had no room for errors, not when this was the only break we’d had in over a year. Realizing his mistake, he grew apologetic, though not nearly enough.“Sorry.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper and tapped his ear. “Headset’s not working. We checked the house, and they’re already gone. They must have had warning, maybe a perimeter of spies on the streets.” As his excitement returned, the young guardian—Laurence—began speaking rapidly. “I was thinking about it. They probably have a whole network of people working with them! It makes sense, right? How else have they managed to stay ahead of us for so long? There’s no telling how deep this conspiracy goes! We might be facing an army tonight!”I said nothing and showed nothing as I mulled over his words. It was something of a mystery how a couple of teenage girls had managed to escape detection for two years, especially when one of them was a privileged Moroi princess and the other a delinquent dhampir with a disciplinary file so long that it broke school records. When I’d joined the teaching staff of St. Vladimir’s last year and learned of the princess’s case, I’d honestly been surprised the girls hadn’t slipped up sooner. Being in league with others might explain how they’d remained hidden …and yet, in all our data gathering, we’d never once had even the slightest hint that they had one accomplice, let alone “a whole network” or “army.”My silence made Laurence nervous, and he no longer smiled. “It’s irrelevant now,” I told him. “And there’s no point jumping to conclusions when—”“Dimitri?” A female voice crackled in my earpiece. “We’ve got visuals on them. They’re approaching the intersection of Brown and Boudreaux, from the north.”Without another word to Laurence, I turned and headed toward the streets indicated. I heard him running after me, but his stride was shorter, and he couldn’t quite keep up. I tried to force calm as my heart rate increased, but it was difficult. This was it. This was it. We might finally have her: Vasilisa Dragomir, the missing princess, last of her line. Although I knew all guardian work was honorable—including the instruction of future guardians—part of me had longed for something more at St. Vladimir’s. When I’d learned about the Dragomir princess and how she’d escaped the school, I’d made finding her a personal project, pushing leads that others had said were hopeless.

Me? I didn’t believe in hopeless.I slowed my pace as the intersection neared, allowing Laurence to catch up. A quick scan revealed the dark shapes of other guardians lurking in shadows and behind objects. This was the spot they’d chosen for the interception. Quickly, I stepped off the road and hid in the cover of a tree, urging Laurence to do the same with a jerk of my head. We didn’t have to wait long. As I peered around the tree’s edge, I saw two female figures approaching, one practically dragging the other along. At first, I assumed it must be the stronger dhampir helping the princess, but as they grew closer, their heights and builds revealed that it was exactly the opposite.I had no time to ponder this oddity. When they were about six feet from me, I quickly stepped out from the tree and blocked their path. They came to a halt, and whatever weaknesses the dhampir girl had now vanished. She grabbed the princess roughly by the arm and jerked her back, so that the dhampir’s own body served as a shield keeping me away. Around us, other guardians fanned out, taking defensive positions but not advancing without my command. The dhampir girl’s dark eyes made note of them, but she kept her attention focused squarely on me.I didn’t entirely know what to expect from her, maybe that she’d try to run away or beg for her freedom. Instead, she shifted into an even more defensive position in front of the princess and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a growl: “Leave her alone. Don’t touch her.”The girl was hopelessly outmatched yet still defiant, as though I were the one at a disadvantage. In moments like these, I was glad my old instructors in Russia had grilled me into concealing my feelings—because I was surprised. Very surprised. And as I took this dhampir girl in, I suddenly understood with perfect clarity how they’d eluded us for so long. A network of accomplices? An army? Laurence was a fool. The princess didn’t need a network or army, not when she had this protector.Rose Hathaway.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

The Wind Whispererby Krista HolleExpected release date: October 2013Synopsis:At fifteen, Anaii is the most important member of her tribe—and the most mysterious. Ever since Anaii can remember, the spirits of the wind have whispered of fertile hunting grounds and imminent enemy attacks. But when her people are ambushed by a brother clan without any apparent cause, the spirits remain eerily silent.As the village prepares to retaliate, Anaii is pressured by her best friend, Elan, to marry him. It’s an old plea—Elan has spent a lifetime loving her, but Anaii only sees a childhood playmate out of an imposing warrior. Stifled by Elan’s insistence, Anaii escapes into the forest where she meets Jayttin, the beautiful son of the enemy chief. Enamored by Jayttin’s carefree spirit and hope for peace, she repeatedly sneaks away to be with him, but when her deception is discovered, Elan is devastated. Pledging his lifelong affection, Elan gives her a passionate kiss, and Anaii begins to see her friend in a new light. While Anaii is tormented over which man she must choose, the wind whispers of a new threat that could destroy both tribes. Only a union will afford a chance at survival, but the reality of that union is based on one thing—which man Anaii chooses to die.

CHAPTER 1

My eyes sprung open in panic as the familiar whisperings of the wind met my ears. To someone else, the air would have been as silent as a snowflake drifting to the earth, but I wasn’t ignorant to the happenings in the forest.

Seventy Zenni warriors—one finger’s breadth of shadow away.The voice was always calm, but it didn’t soothe me. In less time than it took to prepare a meal, our enemies would be descending in a cloud of death. In my dream I had seen the men. They had painted their bodies in unfriendly colors: black, orange, and red, and on one man’s chest, there had been the crude image of the raven—the omen of death. “Father, wake up!” I cried, shoving a deerskin off my legs. “Everyone, wake up! We’re about to be attacked!” My feet hit packed earth while my heart trilled like a hummingbird. It was quiet inside our sapling longhouse, and I kicked a basket in frustration. “Father!” “Go back to sleep, Anaii,” my sister Shada murmured. Her shadowy form wiggled beside the thin grass wall. “You’re only having a bad dream.” It had been over ten winters since the Zenni tribe had any interest in attacking us. “No, I can hear the wind even now!” The wind spirits had been murmuring in my ear for as long as I could remember. For fifteen winters, both day and night, countless spirits shared mostly unimportant tidbits of information. I had learned to sleep through most of the voices, but this piece of news made my blood grow cold. I grabbed Shada’s big toe and shook it hard.The panic in my voice snagged Father’s attention. “Are you certain of this?” His voice sounded tired and rumbly, only paces away.“Yes,” I breathed. “There’s barely enough time to evacuate.” “How many men?”“Seventy.” Shada struggled to a sitting position. “Anaii is a dreamy girl. Why would the Zennites attack us for no reason?” “They have never needed a reason to despise us,” Father growled. He called for his single bodyguard: “Lenno!” A stocky, middle-aged warrior jogged in from his station next door. “Yes, Lord?” His sonorous voice sounded fully awake. “Wake up the village. My brother lusts for innocent blood.”“Are you certain?” Lenno asked.“What?” My father was already on his feet, reaching for his shield and bow. As tribal werowance, my father was not to be questioned.Lenno quickly corrected himself. “I meant Anaii, Lord. We’ve done nothing to provoke—”“Yes, I’m certain,” I said, my gaze darting to the dark fields beyond the door. “I saw this time, too.” “The women and children will hide in the forest,” Father ordered. “All men will stay to defend the village. And get Makawee in here to escort Anaii and Shada out. He’ll be useful for a change.”Lenno tapped his chin in deference before disappearing into the darkness. Father hovered in the doorway as he manipulated the bark straps on his shield. I paced beside my bed while my chest tightened painfully. My best friend Elan would be among the warriors. He and I had been inseparable since we were toddlers.“Father, must all men fight?”“I don’t have time for this foolishness.”“But Elan could guard me instead of Makawee.”“Foolishness,” he repeated before rushing out.Lenno blew a warning from his conch horn, and after a few long moments, the entire village was awake and buzzing with fear. Outside, matrons wailed, and babies cried. From every longhouse, men hustled to retrieve their favorite means of inflicting death: bows and arrows, clubs, and short spears.

On the other side of the longhouse, Father’s wife, Omusa, was hastily gathering weapons of her own. It was a waste of time. Neither she nor my younger brothers were proficient with the bow. After a moment, they slipped into the darkness without saying goodbye. Their feelings had been injured. Father had ordered no protection for them while I was to be protected at all costs. “How long do we have now, Anaii?” my sister demanded to know. The hysteria outdoors had finally convinced her I wasn’t dreaming. Shada was my father’s natural child—about fourteen winters old, a whole cohonks younger than me. She had bright open features and a tall, willowy figure I envied. “Close,” I murmured. I wedged my hands between my knees, but they still trembled like a rabbit.“Then we need to go now!” she cried. “I’m not going to be left in this opossum’s trap for the Zenni to scoop up and slaughter.” Makawee dashed in then. He was a slender man with all the beauty and delicacy of a water lily. “Anaii, is it true?” he asked. His sleek hair had been newly decorated with stained quills. “She saw this time, too," Shada answered for me. Makawee repositioned his quiver with a wince. “Then we’re going to the Salty River. It should be out of striking distance.”The Zennite warriors cross the Wintry Spring.“Right after we find Elan.” I darted into the darkness knowing full well that I’d be followed by two angry bears.The crowds were all forging recklessly in different directions. An old man hobbled into my path. I ducked under a strung-up carcass then bolted between two dwellings. The women and elders were scrambling for the cover of the forest while the warriors tensely stalked the perimeter of the village. Elan was still in front of his longhouse, securing fresh sinew to his long bow. “Your bow isn’t ready!” I cried. “They’re already crossing the spring!”“I should’ve done this earlier,” he mumbled. “Peace makes us idle.” “Save the task and come with me into the forest.” Elan shook his head. “No chance of that.” He put his weight on the bow, and the string snapped into place. “How long, Anaii?” He fixed me with large brown eyes that looked black in the night.My breath was nearly knocked out of me as Shada toppled into my shoulder. “We should’ve left you,” she shrieked.“Then go,” I ordered. “I’m staying with Elan.”“No, you’re not,” Elan growled. He shrugged his long wrapped plait off his shoulder.“I’ll stay and be your eyes,” I said. “The Zenni won’t have a chance against the hundreds of eyes that surround us.” Shada pinched me hard. “You’re coming into the forest with Makawee and me, just like Father said.”

“She’d have me punished,” Makawee said. “Skinned and strung up by the ankles.”I looked at him guiltily, wondering if he might be right. “Go with them, Anaii,” Elan ordered distractedly. “I’ll be here when you return.”My fingers moved firmly over his strong forearm. “Make an oath.”Elan slid an arrow impatiently from his reed quiver. “No time.”“Make an oath,” I insisted, “or else I won’t leave.”He huffed before placing his hand on his heart and pointing to the horizon, the place where the sun had disappeared. “I swear to Omanahi, Lomasi, Achak, and any other god that stands between you and leaving, that I will not be killed.”I dropped my hand. “You will keep your oath.”